Skeletons

Chapter 8

February 2nd, 2005

Dear Diary,

I've spent the next few days going to school up until lunch then during lunch I would go find my Father, sometimes he'd be busy most times not. He was a sort of head of the deconstruction company he ran. I learned it used to be his Dad's but then his Father killed himself a couple of years back. Hence the name "Big Bud Dean Deconstruction."

I asked about his Mother. 

She's dead too. 

He didn't seem too sad about his Father but he got all weird about his Mom. He wouldn't tell me the specifics of how she died which I suppose makes sense, all he really said was that he was like eight or nine.

Mom has been oblivious to the whole thing which I would expect from her. She has been busy since I was born in fact she did her homework in the hospital room hours after I was born. I don't know if she was always like this, seems she was. Which really does make you wonder how she even had the time to get knocked up in the first place.

I don't dislike my Mom I mean we were always close when I was growing up, less now but still. 

She's a good person I think. Which really makes me wonder why she dislikes my Father so much She has made this very apparent in the last few days with general shit talking directed towards him. I assume she does this to make me stop asking about him which is quite confusing seeing as she told me he was alive. 

All I know is that she hates him and he seems to love her.

I shut my diary and put it back in its resting place, the back of my closest underneath some old Halloween costumes from when I was younger.

I check my hair in my bedroom mirror and walk out into the kitchen.

"See you after school Mom!" She is sitting on the kitchen island probably emailing her publisher over something inconsequential. "Mhm have a good day Di." I take an apple from the fruit basket. "You too Mom." 

As the minutes tick by in the school courtyard, I find myself lost in thought, idly watching the clouds drift across the sky. The distant chatter of students fills the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

Suddenly, my reverie is shattered by Ava's urgent voice cutting through the din. She's striding toward me with purpose, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

"LYDIA," she calls out, drawing the attention of nearby students. "Owen says you've been skipping 5th period, leaving him alone in PE." Her tone is accusatory, her eyes boring into me with a mixture of frustration and concern.

I nod, already bracing myself for the lecture I know is coming. "I know, Ava, I have reasons," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

Ava scoffs, her lips curling into a disapproving sneer. "Owen's shy, he can't hold a conversation with just anyone, you know that," she retorts, her frustration obvious as she is not trying to hide it.

As Ava continues to berate me, I catch sight of Owen hurrying toward us, his expression frantic and breathless. His presence momentarily distracts me from Ava's scolding as I take in his disheveled appearance and the look of urgency etched on his face.

And then there's Michael, strolling over with his usual nonchalant swagger, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his red puffer jacket. His curly hair ruffles gently in the breeze, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere surrounding us.